Words Saved for Later
by Tales Account
Summary: Sheri Vert always dreaded the day her adopted daughter asked the question. She had always wanted to save these words for later. :: For Mini. Happy Birthday.


_"Can you tell me about my mother?"_

Sheri Vert had always secretly dreaded this day. The day her little girl asked the question that brought up painful and traumatic memories she'd spent years trying to repress with love, photography, and the rigid duty of being a huntress. But Sheri Vert knew, deep down in her heart, that this question would eventually arise in their little household.

Turning from where her photos were scattered on the kitchen table, the frog faunus gazed upon a little girl, waiting behind her expectantly. Iris Rink resembled her mother uncannily, even if they weren't biologically related. She had the same stubborn fire in her eyes, and her thin lips were twisted in an impatient frown, just like the pyro that had adopted her a decade ago.

"I'm...A little busy right now. I just got a brand new roll of photos from our hike back. Do you want to look at them?" Sheri evaded the question easily, as she did so many times before. "We can have some cookies too. I made your favorite," She sang softly.

Iris' eyebrows furrowed; this was a tough decision to make for the ten year old. Cookies, or learning about her mother?

"Can I have cookies and can you tell me about mother?" She arched brow, the corners of her lips turning up as well. Iris liked to work Cella and Sheri, manipulate them into getting what she wanted. She knew how to milk them for what she could, though Cella was tougher than the frog faunus.

Sheri's lips set in a pout, and she wagged her finger. "That's not fair. You can't have both things." She told her daughter, hoping to push her into a decision.

"Then I just want you to tell me about my mother. I know your tricks, Sheri. I see what you're trying to do here," Iris growled, glaring at her second adopted mom. She may have been young, but she wasn't stupid. It pained her that Sheri thought of her that way.

"Fine. Sit down. I'm going to have cookies, and you won't," She simply shrugged, padding into the kitchen to grab a box of oreos.

"What was she like?" Iris called as she plopped down in a chair, watching Sheri pour a glass of milk.

"Like you. She was hot tempered, spirited, impatient...An amazing friend," Sheri mumbled, a nostalgic smile slipping onto her lips. "A terrible driver. Seriously, I don't know how she even got her license." Sheri grabbed the sleeve of oreos and glass of milk, then sat down with her. The young girl next to her snatched the oreos, shoving a few in her mouth and munching loudly.

"She had a certain affinity for axes and violence, and could cuss better than Cella ever could. She was relentless on the battlefield too. I miss the days we were a team," The frog faunus admitted sweetly, yet somberly. A heavy silence hung between them.

"How'd she die?" Iris finally asked, her throat going dry in anticipation.

"Pancreatic cancer. She told us on our ten year reunion. It was… one of the best and worst days of my life."

Iris stared at the cookie she held in her hand, losing a bit of her appetite. She had expected her adopted mom to go down swinging, against some of the baddest enemies in Remnant. Not in a hospital room.

Sheri murmured, lost in her swirling thoughts, "Marron didn't go down without a fight, but-"

"All fights end." Iris finished bluntly.

Sheri glanced at the girl in surprise; Iris was shockingly perceptive for a child her age, and sometimes it surprised her just how smart she was. This little girl was more mature and hardened to the world than Sheri was at that age. Perhaps it was because Iris Rink lost more than most did at such a young, vulnerable age. First her village, then her adopted mother. But Sheri had faith in her, she and Cella both did.

The silence hung around them for awhile longer, heavy and full with tension. Neither knew what to say to comfort the other.

Iris could tell there were things Sheri kept for herself, unspoken words that wouldn't come tumbling from her lips until she was much, much older. Unspoken stories, battles, and enemies that were a part of Marron Rink's life.

The young girl knew she had no other reason to stay at the table, and rose silently, walking away from Sheri.

The frog Faunus watched her with softened, tired eyes as she bit into another cookie. There would be more words, but later. Years later.


End file.
